


Price and Payment

by soullessbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Discovery, M/M, Prostitution, Protective Sam Winchester, Suggestive Themes, Time Travel, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessbrothers/pseuds/soullessbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam realises that he is possessed, and Ezekiel goes beyond his deal to prove that he wants to protect and cares for both brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Price and Payment

The man in the mirror isn’t Sam. Sam stands up and straightens his shoulders. His breath betrays him, makes his chest rise and fall too quickly. The last time that he was asked to trust an angel so close, a crescent of corpses lay at his feet. He had watched his hands spread and kill. Now he was asked to do it all over again.

“If I leave you, you will die.”

Sam wants to drop his head and close his eyes until the blue fades from memory, but he can’t. Dean lied to him. He’s been lying to him. He thinks about the lapses in memory and waking up on the floor, but the angel offers no more answers. Sam doesn’t know what’s more worrying: Dean’s deception, or this angel deciding not to break a confidence.

“That the line you spun Dean?”

“You were dying.”

“And you want to save me, why?”

Sam doesn’t recognise the way that his reflection holds his jaw, or the way his head dips. He clenches his fists.

“I can save you. In turn, I will be able to heal myself,” Ezekiel answers. “As soon as you are strong enough, I will leave.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“If I go, Dean will lose you.”

Sam’s breath hitches.

“If that is what you wish, you can expel me.”

He was so tired. After the Trials, Sam was ready to go. Now, in the bunker, Dean is wearing the sunken dullness that should have been Sam’s. He’s not himself when he thinks that Sam’s not looking. Sam looks over his shoulder towards his brother, the brother that had done so well and has now slipped back into whiskey.

“Dean would prefer you not to know the truth.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“It would break him. His guilt is considerable.”

_God, Dean. I love you, man, but you should’ve told me._

“He wanted to, but I knew that this would be your reaction.”

Sam hisses. “Now you’re just reading everything in me?”

“I am you. And I have saved Dean. I would like it if you trusted me.”

“Yeah, I get it. Dean was desperate. But I feel great, and you need to go.”

“You feel good because I am healing you. Your body and soul are broken.”

“I need, I need—”

Ezekiel nods in the mirror. “You wish to tell your brother that you are grateful. Both of your actions come from deep love.”

That makes Sam falter. The earnestness in Ezekiel’s, his, voice. His fists unclench and he swallows back a wave of biting need.

“I would suggest that I remove these memories. Your recovery will continue as planned and you will not remember my existence.”

“Yeah, until you change your mind and go crazy in there. There’s no way, man. I’m not putting Dean in danger.”

Ezekiel smiles in understanding. “I shall show you how much I care for you and your brother.”

Sam watches his reflected arm reach through the glass. He tenses and the foreign-familiar hand grasps his wrist. There’s a flash of light. Sam’s vision spots black and electric blue and when he blinks them clear, he isn’t in the bunker.

He’s cold. “Where the hell—?”

_I apologise. Your bunker is warded against angels. I used your body to walk outside before I could bring you here._

Sam curses. He blacked out again, thanks to Ezekiel taking over. He can’t fight that kind of power. Sam wraps his arms around himself. It’s mid-afternoon, so he doesn’t understand why it’s dark. He doesn’t recognise the concrete buildings that surround him, or the dim yellow of streetlamps. He walks forward and flinches at the sound of a whimper around a corner. There isn’t a weapon in his pocket, so he’ll have to rely on his fists against any danger.

_I will protect you._

Sam doesn’t believe him. The alley is darker still and it takes a few more steps before his eyes have fully adjusted. His skin ices.

There’s Dean.

On his knees.

_I have brought you here to save him._

Sam runs forward and before the stranger can loosen the hand in Dean’s hair, Sam cracks a fist into his jaw. He screams and Sam strikes again, he aims for his nose and pops it, satisfied at the shrill shriek and the stumble back. Dean falls back, jaw dropped, lips and cheek wet with something that makes Sam’s stomach jolt. Before he can hit again, the stranger yanks at his zipper and smacks his feet into the pavement. He trips up against the wall and pushes himself upright to race around the corner.

“Fuck, _fuck_.”

“Dean!”

Dean has already pounced back to his feet. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and Sam chokes. He rubs his knuckles and walks over to Dean, but Dean has his hand inside his leather jacket pocket. It’s Dean, but not his Dean. His hair is spiked up and the bones at his cheeks are more pronounced. He’s younger. More than ten years younger. Even his stance is young. His shoulders are shoved right back with a feigned confidence that Sam used to mistake for bravery, and now sees as fear.

“How the hell do you know who I am?”

“Dean, it’s me, it’s—”

_You have both changed much over time, Sam._

Sam grimaces. “I’m a friend.”

Dean tenses, too. His eyes flash, but he swallows. He’s afraid. “Of who?”

“It’s, it’s okay, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean frees a silver knife from his pocket. He holds it out in warning. “You better start talking.”

“It’s really, really complicated.”

“I can do complicated.”

“Dean—”

“What? You know my dad?”

“You could say that.” Sam groans as soon as he sees a shudder in Dean’s shoulders. “I’m not saying anything. Dude, what the hell are you, why are you—?”

“Dude, _fuck you_ , you don’t know shit!”

Sam’s expression drops. If Dean’s still a teenager, if it’s this dark, he knows where the earlier version of himself will be. He’ll be back at some nearby, crappy motel room worrying about where Dean is. He’ll be hungry, too. He’ll have done what he always did, complained, whimpered, and Dean would have promised that he’d be back soon, that he’d find them something.

The dots join and it makes Sam seasick.

“Hey, listen.”

Dean stands stock still as Sam fumbles around in his pockets. Sam pats himself down until he pulls out some notes and coins. It only comes to under twenty dollars, but it’ll have to do. He has his wallet with him, but in this time, the cards won’t work. When he finishes counting, he offers his palm out. The calculation behind Dean’s blank expression tears at him.

“Huh. You broke it up so I could suck you instead.”

“No! No. Dean. Listen to me. Just, just take it, get something to eat, go home, see m—Sam and, and please, please don’t do this.”

Dean eyes the money. “What’d you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Please. Take it. Just, uh, don’t stab me, man. I’m trying to help.”

Sam smiles and Dean lowers the knife. He walks over, slowly, and Sam and see that he’s gauging him for an attack. Sam loosens his muscles and does his best to look as non-threatening as possible. Dean decides that he’s as safe as he possibly can be in an alley with a freakishly tall stranger, and hides his weapon before he snatches the cash. That’s stuffed away in another pocket.

When Sam starts to speak, Dean takes the opportunity to bolt. He’s as fast as he ever was, and dashes around one corner. Sam runs to try and spot where he’s going, but he knows Dean better than that. There’s no way that he wouldn’t hide his tracks, double back over himself and who knows what else to keep his Sammy far away from whoring and charity.

“Ezekiel—” Sam’s voice cracks. Tears burn at the back of his throat.

_I will return us back to our time._

Sam nods. “Th-thanks.”

_I believe in Castiel. That means that I believe in Dean. And you._

“Great.”

_Trust me, Sam. You need to trust me._

“Just, just take me home.”

He does.


End file.
